Saving Grace
by warbleretteinwonderland
Summary: "The best days were the ones spent in Kurt's arms." - Blaine is terminally ill and he doesn't have much fight left in him, or much time. But one thing he always will have is Kurt Hummel and the love that he offered. One shot.


The best days were the ones spent in Kurt's arms.  
>There were lazy afternoons of lying in the grass, watching the clouds drift by slowly, the sun warm on their faces as they talked and laughed aimlessly about anything that came to mind. The colder nights were spent by the fire in the Dalton common rooms, or wrapped around each other in one of their dorms, a movie that they weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to in the background as they simply held each other, or shared needy, fervent kisses, as though each touch of the lips would be the very last, losing themselves to touch and taste.<p>

The worst days were spent waiting anxiously in hospital rooms, fingers tapping nervously against thighs as doctors ran tests and barked orders at each other. They were spent holding hands as blood was drawn to be examined for the thousandth time, palms clammy and fingers shaking as they waited for the worst to be announced. They were spent holding each other firmly in each other's arms, offering comfort, blinking back tears.

There were days were nothing happened at all; no excitement but no pain, and on those days Blaine was simply glad that he was still able to breathe, to live, grateful for even a moment of pure, unspoiled peace.

His parents were supportive, but they were distancing themselves and Blaine understood that. His parents had begun to drift from him from the moment he had come out of the closet, but as soon as Blaine had been proclaimed terminally ill, they'd attempted to make amends. While it had worked for a while, their bond had begun to falter once more, and Blaine knew it was because his parents didn't want to be hit with the full emotional turmoil of their only child's death. Blaine understood; he understood it all – his parents must have been in as much pain as he was; he understood that when he was gone, he wouldn't miss anyone at all, but they would be left with the scars. He understood that he didn't have much time left and that his parents wanting to build a protective wall around themselves was more than reasonable. He understood that sometimes bad things happened to people without an explanation. He understood how the illness worked and he understood that he wouldn't be getting a heart transplant in time. He understood everything.

But as damaged his heart was physically, it was torn to shreds emotionally.

His friends tried to be sympathetic, but Blaine could tell they were scared, and he could feel his relationship with his fellow Warblers slowly diminishing. He didn't join in when they practiced anymore, he simply watched as they prepared for Sectionals.

It hurt to sing.

Kurt was his saving grace and was the fuel to his fire; however small that flame might have been, Kurt was sure to keep it burning. Blaine's heart ached at the thought of his boyfriend; he was so good to him and Blaine knew he didn't deserve him, especially to simply leave him with nothing at the end of such a long, arduous journey.

Kurt's mother had died of cancer when he was a child, and the year before his father had almost passed away from a heart attack – it pained Blaine to think that he would be just another statistic to Kurt, just another person who had left him after losing to an illness. He knew that it was all appearances at this point; Kurt would smile and laugh and act like he hadn't a care in the world around Blaine, but Blaine knew his boyfriend was struggling. Behind the carefully set mask, he was beginning to crumble. His eyes had lost their shine and when he looked at Blaine, Blaine could see the heartache in his eyes.

It was killing him, and Blaine pondered that thought with a sort of grim amusement; it was killing Kurt and it was killing him. Kurt's family was being incredibly supportive, but Blaine could feel the thinly veiled, guilty resentment – he had promised Burt when he asked permission to date his son, that he would never, ever hurt Kurt. A year later and he was failing Kurt's own heart as well as his own.

On some days Blaine couldn't even get out of bed, his body hurt so much. On those days, Kurt would skip class and stay with him, singing him lullabies and songs from his favorite Disney movies and musicals, his hands twirling Blaine's curls around his fingers. He would do this until he thought Blaine was asleep, but Blaine never missed the sobs that escaped his boyfriend's lips the minute Kurt thought Blaine had fallen asleep.

Lately Kurt's eyes were rimmed red with heavy bags beneath them. His grades were beginning to slip, though he would never admit to neglecting his studies to take care of Blaine. His smile, although breathtaking as ever, was considerably more forced, more fake.

But even though the smile was fake and he looked exhausted beyond comprehension, there was fire left in him, and Blaine couldn't help but adore the courage his boyfriend displayed every day. He would make sure Blaine was at the hospital at the exact moment he needed to be, he was on call at all hours of the day and he was willing to do even the most menial tasks for his boyfriend just to make his day run a little smoother.

* * *

><p>But Blaine knew that even Kurt had his breaking point, and that day had come one rainy afternoon in the hospital. Blaine was being checked over by a doctor and Kurt was ever-present. At one point, the doctor had left the room and Blaine had buried his face in his hands, feeling nauseous and having difficulty breathing. Kurt was pacing the room, anxiously waiting the doctor's return, and after a while the doctor still hadn't come back to check on Blaine.<p>

Blaine had eventually regained his breath and the queasiness had dissipated, but he noticed that Kurt was beginning to breathe heavily, his shoulders shaking as he collapsed into the plastic hospital chair.

'Kurt, baby, I'm okay,' he assured him gently, attempting a smile which turned out as more of a grimace. Kurt looked at him, lip trembling as his eyes fell over his boyfriend's body, weak and broken.

'You're not,' Kurt shook his head and stood from his chair, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, 'you're not, Blaine, you're not okay at all. This isn't okay. You're _not okay_.'

'Kurt,' Blaine frowned, and then stood up from the bed he had been sitting on, 'Kurt, look at me. I'm _fine_. For now I'm fine, I'm okay. Alright?'

Kurt shook his head again and this time a tear spilled down his porcelain cheek, his arms folding across his chest as he took a step back.

'You're not okay.' he repeated resolutely, and he sounded as though his head was breaking, 'you're – you're dying, Blaine, _how _is that okay? You're – you're dying and you're going to leave me and I – I –'

He didn't finish his sentence, but he sunk back into his chair and started sobbing. Blaine crossed the room as quickly as he could and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, who leaned into him heavily and didn't bother holding back the tears.

'Shh,' Blaine soothed, stroking his hair gently, 'baby, it's okay. You'll be okay.'

'But I _won't!'_ Kurt wailed, pushing Blaine back gently, 'I'm in _love_ with you and you're going to leave me. Why – why would you do this to me, Blaine? How can y-you do this? You promised forever. This _isn't _forever!'

He pushed past Blaine then and headed for the door. Blaine stared after him, heart throbbing painfully in his chest, his eyes welling up with tears. Kurt rested his hand on the door handle, not looking back as he spoke.

'I don't know how much longer I can do this,' he whispered, his voice only slightly shaky, 'I don't know how much longer I can stand to have my heart break. I'm in love with you – I always will be. But you won't be. You won't be.'

He turned the handle and left the room just as the doctor walked back in, throwing him a confused glance as Kurt let out another sob before disappearing down the corridor. Blaine had made it through the rest of the examination feeling completely numb; he didn't respond to questions and when he was allowed to leave, he tore from the hospital and sobbed in his car for hours before he had the strength to drive back to Dalton.

Kurt had avoided him for almost an entire week after the hospital, and it had almost been the death of Blaine. Without Kurt, he had no one to support him. Of course, his friends were there but they weren't able to be there for him in the way Blaine needed someone. He needed someone to love him, at least for a little while. At least until it was his time to leave.

But Kurt had fallen into Blaine's arms on the sixth day, sobbing apologies and kissing him desperately until they tumbled onto Blaine's bed and made love like they hadn't in a long time. Afterwards, still breathless and sweaty, they had simply cried together, still whispering apologies and holding each other tightly.

'I'll love you for the rest of my life,' Blaine promised, because he knew it was true.

'I'll love you beyond that.' Kurt breathed, tears spilling from his glasz eyes.

* * *

><p>As time progressed, Blaine's heart grew weaker and so did his will. He wanted to fight for Kurt and his friends and his family, but getting out of bed was becoming a chore and he couldn't walk for extended periods of time without collapsing. He was bedridden and suffering and it was frustrating him to no end.<p>

He'd passed the stage of denial. He'd spent months convincing himself that he would be fine, that he would somehow make it out alive – a miracle would descend upon him and he would live past 18.

He'd passed through the stage of acceptance – it had been an odd stage for him, slipping peacefully from full blown denial into a mellow, thoughtful understanding. It hadn't lasted long, but it had helped him center himself and focus on getting better, at least to prolong what time he had left.

He'd been angry and then in denial again, and then angry.

Right now, he knew he was nearing the end. He could deny it as much as he wanted to, but with the steady stream of teary visitors – including some of Kurt's friends from the New Directions, his old show choir from his previous school – he knew that the people around him were beginning to prepare.

The doctors had given him a few weeks and Blaine didn't know how to feel about it. He was so young; only seventeen and there was so much he had to do and experience and learn. He wanted a family and children and a career; he wanted to make mistakes and fight with the people around him and become a better person from it. He wanted to travel and perform and _live_.

The last few weeks of Blaine's life were spent in numbness – it wasn't the ideal way to spend it, but it helped stop the pain.

A psychologist was called to Dalton to help him cope, but he didn't need her. He knew what was coming. Teachers would come to talk to him, to congratulate him on being such a wonderful, talented student. To tell him how sorry he was.

His friends, the Warblers, they merely cried. They had crowded into Blaine's room one day and sung for him, a very teary rendition of _Fix You_ by Coldplay, during which Blaine had sobbed and the Warblers had barely held back their own tears for the duration of the song.

But Kurt had spent the most time with him during those final weeks. More time than his parents, who couldn't bear to stay for more than half an hour at a time. His mother cried during their visits, but his father would just stare in a stony silence. They wanted to take Blaine back home, but Blaine wouldn't hear of it. At Dalton, at least, he was surrounded by people who were able to help him, to love him.

Kurt slept beside Blaine every night, crying himself to sleep in Blaine's chest as Blaine held him, silent tears running down his own cheeks. Kurt didn't go to class. He skipped meals. He spent every spare moment he could with Blaine, until Blaine could feel his presence burned into the side of his body, ever present no matter where Kurt was.

When Blaine knew he only had a matter of days left, he had sat Kurt down at the foot of his bed and struggled into a sitting position, taking his boyfriend's hands in his. He stared into his eyes, tears flowing freely, and he sang to him with everything he had. It hurt both physically and most definitely emotionally, but through the whole of _Hallelujah _he had never once let his gaze fall from Kurt's.

'If there's one thing I've experienced that I'm thankful for more than anything in the world,' Blaine had told him solemnly as Kurt bit his lip, crying, 'is loving you. Being loved by you. If there's one thing I'm thankful for it's being able to hold your hand right now and tell you how much I love you – how I would have always loved you.'

Kurt swallowed thickly, waiting for Blaine to keep going. Blaine swallowed back his own tears, but the attempt was futile because they fell fast and thick down his cheeks as he struggled to continue.

'A-and,' he went on, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing, 'I would have loved you for the rest of my life. I would h-have started a family with you. I would h-have _married_ you, Kurt, because you're everyt-thing I need. The _only_ thing I need and if anything had got me through his, it was you. I – I may be dying; Kurt, but you saved me.'

Kurt had fallen into his arms then and cried without restraint, and Blaine didn't even think about stopping his own tears. He didn't know how long they cried together then, telling each other over and over against how much they loved one another, how much they would miss each other.

Blaine could feel his world crashing around him and he had never hated himself more in his life. He couldn't die now. He couldn't leave Kurt on his own.

Kurt would have support when he was gone, but Blaine wanted to be that support. He needed to be that support, the saving grace for him as Kurt had been. He tightened his hold on his boyfriend, kissing his hair over and over again, the energy draining from his body, his heart beginning to beat irregularly. Kurt must have felt it because he drew back, his expression beyond miserable, and placed his hand over Blaine's heart.

'I-it's only fighting for you,' Blaine whispered, feeling Kurt's hand beginning to tremble, 'it's s-still trying for you.'

* * *

><p>Blaine drew his last breath early the next morning, Kurt's hand clutched onto his as he slipped away. Kurt knew that he had gone peacefully but he had held onto Blaine's hand for dear life, frozen. He couldn't cry. He couldn't breathe. It wasn't until Wes had come to check on them an hour later that he showed any sign of stirring. Wes had almost stumbled from the room in shock, but he took Kurt's free hand and tried to pry Kurt away from Blaine.<p>

'No!' Kurt shouted, a sob catching in his throat, 'n-no! Let me go with him. Let me go!'

It had taken two teachers and a few Warblers to calm Kurt down enough to get him to leave the room. An ambulance was called and a morbid hush had fallen over the school – classes were cancelled for the day. Many of the students were in tears.

Kurt had retreated to his room and had locked himself inside, crying for all he was worth, rocking back and forward on his bed. He kept his eyes cast down – everything reminded him of Blaine, from his blazer flung across the back of his desk chair, to the sheet music strewn on the table. He didn't leave for the rest of the day, not even when his parents had come to Dalton and demanded he open the door for them. He simply stared at the wood blankly, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

He felt as though someone was slowly tearing him apart. He couldn't imagine recovering from this.

But as his eyes fell on a beautiful silver ring Blaine had given him for their one year anniversary, he could help but feel a tiny, tiny amount of relief. Blaine wasn't hurting anymore – Kurt knew that Blaine was in pain all the time, as much as he denied it. He was resting now. He would be safe, wherever he was, Kurt was sure of it. He remembered seeing Blaine struggle with his breath, throwing up in the toilet over and over again from the nausea. He remembered the panicked expression on his face when he told him that he was sick – how much he'd cried when he found out there were no transplants.

He remembered Blaine singing _Teenage Dream _to him on the very first day they met. He remembered Blaine's infectious, radiant smile. His beautiful, loving heart. He remembered his laugh, his eyes, his skin. How he always smelt of coffee and cinnamon and something so utterly _Blaine_.

Blaine was safe now, and the thought made Kurt smile. He would be waiting for Kurt and Kurt knew that nothing, not even death, would keep them apart. Not forever.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I've been getting reviews from people saying the story made people cry and I'm really sorry about that! I hope it didn't make you guys too sad and that you enjoyed it nevertheless. Blaine is okay :D<em>


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